Refraction
by Thriefty
Summary: The slightest refraction can cause a ray of light to travel a very different course. What would have happened if the Crown Prince of Bretwalde had lived? -Rondo of Swords-
1. The light dims

_**Refraction**_ **, a Rondo of Swords fanfiction**

 **Chapter 1: The light dims...**

Steel met steel, the clashing sound reverberating down the walls of the castle. Luruze, the castle of Egvard was under siege. Soldiers in bright orange armour marched down the halls, their blades drenched red in the blood of the defending guards. Despite having cleared most of the castle of its inhabitants, the platoon continued to scour the many rooms of the castle. They still had one target left.

Their target was the Crown Prince of Bretwalde, Prince Serdic. The prince had been seen at his father's funeral, paying his respects to the dead when they had struck. However, the ambush team reported that the prince had escaped. The prince's guards had given their lives to block the assault and the prince had disappeared in the chaos.

It was unlikely that the prince would have remained in the castle. However, their commander was a meticulous one. He had ordered that no stone would be left unturned, and theirs was the team left to search the castle. The leader of the group had little hope of them coming with results but…

In a desolate corner of the castle, they found an occupied room. A boy stood there, garbed in black mourning attire. At the sight of them, he leapt into a battle stance. The blade he wielded was the clearest indicator of who he was.

"Prince Serdic of Bretwalde. It is your turn to die." The leader announced as the soldiers surrounded their target.

* * *

His mind descended into confusion upon seeing the four soldiers file in. What had happened to the castle? Why were the soldiers of Grand Meir attacking? He would have panicked, but the glow of the sword within his hands calmed him. He might be outnumbered, but he was wielding the holy blade of Bretwalde, Spanta.

The blade shimmered gold, and with a swing, a ray shot forth, piercing through the enemy lines. The three soldiers in the way staggered back, silver scars appearing upon their orange armour. However, one had reacted on time, sidestepping the attack and approaching the prince.

A spear lunged, aiming to skewer the prince, but the prince had ducked to evade. His next movement was to leap, not at his current attacker, but toward the three soldiers that had been recovering their balance. Their spears did not move in time, and his blade hacked through the armour of the first. The reckless charge took down the second one as well, but by the time he reached the third, the soldier was ready. He could dodge, but that would bring him out of range. The spear was longer than his sword, so he readied himself to take a glancing blow... At least, until he saw another spear come at his side. The soldier he had ignored, he realised too late.

Two spears hit the prince, the first sliced his side, the second plunged straight into it. Pain clouded his mind. He was on the verge of collapsing in pain, but Spanta lit up once more. Gritting his teeth, he let loose another beam of light, catching the less attentive of the two soldiers off-guard. The deep cut through the man's abdomen bespoke his fate.

Only one soldier remained, but that one was likely the most skilled of the group. The man wielded his blood covered spear with a nasty grin.

"Like this… the final option shouldn't even be necessary. You will just bleed to death, wouldn't you? If you die, I can go free…" the man spoke, a crazed look entering his eyes.

A flurry of jabs assaulted the prince. In his now weakened state, each blow sapped his strength. He could feel his focus weakening, and he knew that soon, he would not be able to fend off the spear of death.

As the seconds went by, the prince's guard weakened and weakened. Soon, a perfect opportunity presented itself to the assailant. The prince's sword hand had been knocked back, and he was wide open to be skewered. The assailant lunged forward at his chance.

He did not expect the next series of events.

The prince's free hand grabbed the approaching spear, pulling it aside as he dodged away. The soldier, brought forward by his lunge, was brought into the range of the holy sword. It was too late when the soldier realised that the prince's weakening guard had been a ruse, all to bring him in range of a killing strike. The holy blade impaled the final assailant.

"Ahaha…"

A weak, raspy laugh came from the dying soldier. Wary of any possible tricks, the prince distanced himself from the man. With the sword removed from his body, the soldier collapsed to the ground. However, his red eyes never left the prince.

"I may not have escaped my fate… but I did what I was to do… The holy blade… shall no longer… shine…" the soldier muttered as the life slowly dimmed from his eyes.

At the dying man's words, the prince's attention was drawn to his sword. Strands of dark magic had surrounded the blade, eroding the ever-present glow of the blade. Soon, the gold hue of the blade regressed, gold giving way to silver, giving the holy sword an ordinary metallic appearance.

The prince felt the power of the holy blade ebb and in turn, felt himself weakening. The adrenaline now gone from his body, he realised he had more to worry about than the sword's curse. Blood dripped from the open wound in his side, pooling onto the ground.

It was… a lot of blood. It was not wrong to describe it as a pool.

He was en route to a slow death by bleeding. There were no healers nearby, no potions either, not in this desolate corner of the castle which he had hid in. There was not enough time to get help from someone else, his body wouldn't last that long.

At this rate, what would become of Bretwalde? Its capital was overrun by enemies, its holy blade was cursed and its crown prince was dying. The once-proud kingdom had been crippled by Grand Meir's blitzkrieg attack. It seemed unlikely that the holy kingdom would be able to continue…

"Prince Serdic!" The yell of his name brought him back to his senses. The sight of the person at the doorway made him realise that not all hope had been lost.

As always, it felt as if he was looking at a mirror. The newcomer was virtually identical to him, from his blonde hair to his blue eyes. There was naught a difference in their height nor weight. This doppelganger was the prince's double, and it was he who had attended the king's funeral. None had been wiser to the ruse, so alike were the two.

Really the only distinguishing feature between them lay in their attire. The double was far better geared for battle, with a shiny white breastplate worn over the dark blue robes. It was the attire that the prince had chosen for his father's funeral, to honour the king as a knight of the holy blade. The armour had served its actual purpose as well, the scratches upon the shoulder guard attesting to the attacks its owner had suffered.

"Your wounds... Please hold on, my Prince!" The double exclaimed as he rushed to the prince's side.

However, the prince's eyes were trained on the now scarred armour. His double had no doubt been attacked when he was at the funeral, which was held in the cathedral, at opposite side of the castle. There should have been no reason for the soldiers to search this area; they should have expected the prince to flee from the castle. Unless... they knew that he would hide here. Add in the fact that the timing and speed of the assault upon the castle had been almost perfect...

"Forget about me... The important things is that it seems the Empire isn't our only enemy." he announced gravely.

Who was it? And what would they stand to gain? His eyes fell upon the tainted blade, and the twin blue orbs darkened in realisation. "I can't believe that they..."

The next words were lost as his vision swam disconcertingly. He stumbled, and the only reason he did not fall was due to his double supporting him. The words from his double were fuzzy, unclear.

The prince realised he did not have much time left. There were more important things to do.

Shaky fingers grasped the holy blade, and slowly pulled it out. The blade that had always fitted his palm, that had felt as if created for him, felt heavy. It was not merely due to his flagging strength. No, this was the weight of the holy blade, heavy with responsibility. For a moment, he hesitated, unwilling to burden a friend with it.

However, there weren't any other substitutes. His double would have to do what he would not be able to do.

"Take Spanta..." The prince urged, pushing the blade into his double's hands. "I won't need it... "

"You... you can't mean... What are you saying?!" the double exclaimed in protest.

"I think you know." The prince murmured. It took great effort just to lift his head to face his double. "It's too late for me..."

The double's eyes were glistening now. Yet, he did not speak. He did not know the words he should say.

"I have... a final request of you. Will you listen?" The prince asked, conscious of how the words sounded like a plea.

The words shook him from his silence. As always, upon receiving a command, the double dipped his head and assented. "Yes, my Prince!"

His double was a friend, one of his most trusted vassals, one of the most loyal knights under his command... This was why he dared entrust him with this task.

"Become me once again... and save Bretwalde in my stead."

To act in place of him as the crown prince, to save his homeland... only his double could do this. It would be as if the prince had never died. That he had escaped alive, and would be able to gather the remains of the Bretwaldean knights and command them to take back his homeland. The fact that the real prince had died in the castle... need not be made known. He would die in obscurity, his double would live on as Prince Serdic.

The double let out a gasp, understanding what the prince meant. He shook his head, wanting to deny the necessity of this. But there was no better choices available to the prince.

The prince continued. "During the battle earlier, the Holy Blade was cursed. Bretwalde cannot be saved without Spanta. You must find a way to remove this curse."

"I... I understand." the double said quietly.

"Oh, and if you should ever meet my sister..." The thought of the his only sibling made his heart ache. He would be leaving her behind. The thought terrified him more than losing the capital did.

Yet, he forced out the words. "If you ever meet Marie... look after her."

His double had frozen, not speaking a word. The prince took his silence as his consent. With this, the crown prince, Prince Serdic would live on. And if the worst occurred...

"As a Bretwaldean knight... and as royalty... I ask that you grant me an honourable death." It was a simple selfish wish... He did not wish his double to meet a similar fate as his.

"... Now go. Before your chance to escape is lost..." he commanded with what little strength he had left.

The double had remained silent. Then slowly, he took the holy blade, sheathing it to his left thigh. The prince relaxed, glad that his double had accepted the heavy responsibility. His eyes were beginning to close. Just speaking had drained his energy, and he was looking forward to rest...

And his eyes flew open when he felt himself being hefted upwards. It took him a few moments to realise that he was upon the back of his double.

"I'm sorry, my prince. I can't obey your command." His double declared as he shifted the bleeding prince into a more comfortable position.

"Wha- But for Bretwalde's sake-" His words were cut off by a spate of harsh coughs.

His double shook his head. "I don't believe that you are as far gone as you believe to be, my prince. It's too early for you to be giving me your final request."

"You won't... be able to escape... not with both of us..." the prince protested feebly.

His double wasn't listening.

"We haven't even tried. And if so, then, so be it." The double declared. "The king said that I'm not supposed to die before you. So you have to live!"

The double started running, carrying the injured prince with him. Even though the double did his best to be stable, each step still jerked the prince's body. With each movement, the prince felt his mind becoming murkier.

"You have plenty ahead of you, my prince. You have a kingdom to save, a holy blade to cleanse, and a sister to protect. " His double was saying. "You'll live to see this all done. That's what I'm here for."

"You fool... There's... no need to go so far..." The prince managed to utter. His head was light, he knew he wouldn't be able to remain conscious for much longer.

It was a while before the double spoke. "A year ago, you chose to save the life of a stranger. You found him somehow inside the castle walls, with injuries that would have killed him should you have left him alone. He could have been a spy, an assassin, or any other enemy against the throne... Yet, you made the choice to save him."

"This time, let me do the same for you."

Whatever reprimand in his throat was lost. He no longer had the strength to protest.

"Take care of Bretwalde... and Marie..." Serdic muttered, as darkness took hold on him.

 **Chapter 1: The light dims... but it is not lost.**

 **-End-**

* * *

 **Author's note:**

So, my first return to writing after years of not writing full stories... is to write a fanfic for a fandom that is near non-existent. I blame Sae, a friend from discord, the only person I've known that have played the game. I also blame my frequent trips to lparchive during my internship, which was what that led me to knowing about this game. Finally, I blame Vegeta the 3rd, who wrote Sonata Rondo, the only Rondo of Swords fanfiction I have found. If not for that writer, I would not have this plot bunny, that have been gleefully eating up my holiday time. I blame you all, but I also have to credit you. I haven't had any great inspiration for writing for ages.

Really, I am writing this more for myself and Sae then for anyone. But if there is anyone else that finds this fic hidden in the Misc. Games section... well, welcome to what is probably the second RoS fanfiction on this website (correct me if I'm wrong, as I'd like to see any other works). This is an exploration of what-ifs, specifically, what if Prince Serdic had lived. The crown prince's death set off the whole game of Rondo of Swords, how much would it change if he had lived longer? This story is my interpretation of what could have happened.

I hope you will enjoy this tale of mine, where a slight refraction in the plot can cause many future deviations.


	2. Sacrifices

_**Refraction**_ **, a Rondo of Swords fanfiction**

 **Chapter 2: Sacrifices...**

The castle was not as deserted as he had thought. The double could hear the ordered footfalls of marching soldiers - there were more groups still combing the castle. He wasn't too worried though. No one knew the hidden passages of Luruze better than he did.

He reached a cupboard in the middle of the hallway. It was there more for decorative purposes than anything, as the insides were completely bare. Or at least, that was what the king wanted others to think. He reached to the back of cupboard, finger hooking into a natural-looking notch in the wood. Then, he slid the false back of the cupboard, and entered the hidden passageway. Inside the passageway, he stepped on a switch, causing the sliding panel to snap shut, and the cupboard door to close. With the entrance to the passageway once again hidden, he felt slightly safer.

He kept a quick yet steady pace through the narrow passageway, lowering his posture whenever the ceiling came low. He felt a part of his robe brush against his leg and grimaced. The blue garb was wet, probably with blood. The bleeding had to stop if the prince was to live. Already, the prince's complexion was turning pale.

It was a great relief when he finally reached his destination. The passageway had opened up into a small room, one of the many hideaways that he frequented. The room was sparse, the only things of interest was a mattress in a corner and a small storage cupboard. The double carefully set down the prince upon the mattress, and grimaced at his first good look at the prince's injury.

The lamp light revealed the deep stab wound that the prince had suffered. It had entered his side, and likely pierced through his rib cage. It was likely that a couple of ribs were broken. The worst though, was the outpouring of blood.

He thanked himself for his habit of keeping a stock of medicine in every hideaway. The double worked to apply some recovery salves upon the prince wounds, and then carefully dripped a bit of Akasha Juice down the prince's throat. The magically enhanced restoratives did their job, the deep wound soon closed up, leaving only dry blood stain as the only evidence of the grievous injury.

The prince was not fully recovered, however. The restoratives may have helped closed his wounds, but they did not help restore the lost blood. The prince would probably need the attention of a healer and some time to recuperate. Neither of which were available in the sieged capital.

Which meant... that he would have to find some way to escape the siege, bringing along an unconscious prince. He couldn't go to any nearby towns, with the Grand Meir army so close by. With the royal army nearly in tatters, it was only a matter of time before they too would fall to Grand Meir. To find safety and shelter for the prince, it was likely that he had to escape the country. Would it even be possible, with the prince as the Empire's biggest mark?

 _I knew it wouldn't be easy... It is always troublesome with you, my prince._ He thought. Still, he had meant every word he had said to the prince. He had made his vow, and he would uphold it.

First, he needed more information. All he knew was that Grand Meir was attacking, and their forces had been enough to overwhelm Bretwalde's army. How bad was the situation? With the prince once more upon his back, he navigated the hidden passageways once more. It was a longer journey this time, his route brought him to the edge of the castle. Soon, he reached his destination, one of the four watch towers of the castle. Scaling the steps, he soon found availed himself to a panorama of the city.

His heart sank when he saw the swathes of orange-armoured knights upon the city's main streets. He had guessed right, the enemy far outnumbered their army. Theorange knights were clearly divided into five different divisions, three divisions guarding the stationed outside the city's walls, two within. He counted five different kinds of banners were being flown. Four banners were emblazoned with lions, one black, one green, one red and one gold, each with its maw open in a roar. They represented the four of the main division of Grand Meir's army.

The final banner was different. The image of a proud griffon with its wings outspread made the double's heart stop. That banner represented the First Division of Grand Meir's army, the Griffons, led by King Gauss himself. Grand Meir had pulled out all stops for this blitzkrieg strategy.

How was he going to escape?

A spate of fighting near the castle drew his attention. Two knights were fighting off the Imperial soldiers upon their trail, making their way to the castle. As the two drew closer, the double recognised them as Margus and Kay, knights Prince Serdic had known personally. They were here for his prince, he realised.

With their help, he would stand a better chance of escaping this siege. This thought in mind, the double darted down the steps of the watchtower, heading in the direction of the allied knights.

* * *

It grated on Kay's pride as a knight to not cut down the enemies that had invaded Bretwalde. He hated that he was basically fleeing down the main street of Evgard, with Grand Meir soldiers right on his trail. The paved streets of the capital were wide enough; if he turned Gawain, his trusted steed around, he could probably flank the slower armoured knights. He was sure he could run down a couple of the them. However, he held back the urge.

His role was that of a lure. His bright red armour and red hair made him ideal for it. The imperial soldiers stationed near the castle gate had been on him like flies to honey when he had wildly charged past the castle gate. Now, he was almost at the south entrance of the Evgard. That was not his destination, however. He knew that outside those gates was the main force of the imperial army. Charging out there would be suicide.

At the opportune moment, he entered an alleyway. What seemed like an innocuous path between houses suddenly branched into a mini-labyrinth. Kay chose the path with the most twists and turns, intent on causing as much trouble possible to the imperial soldiers. The curses from his pursuers were a small victory. Although his pursuers were persistent, persistence alone was not enough for them to catch the mobile cavalier. His shortcuts over stacks of crates were not easily replicated and the imperial soldiers soon lost their target. When Kay was sure he had lost his pursuers, he returned to the main street. The way to the castle was now soldier-free.

Or well, almost. Unlike what he had previously thought, not all the imperial soldiers had been drawn away. Three soldiers still guarded the gate. This was far less than the original platoon of thirty, but there were still three of them and one of him. Unafraid, Kay urged Gawain into a gallop, ignoring the disparity in numbers. There might be three of them, but they did not know that he was not alone.

At the sight of him, the three imperial soldiers had lifted their bludgeons. The oversized hammers were meant to crush the armour of other heavy infantry, but would work just as well upon the lightly armoured cavalier. One swing might not be enough to stop the bulk of a knight upon his horse, but they were confident that three would stop the charge of the seemingly suicidal cavalier. Their attention were firmly upon the approaching red knight.

Thus, they were practically blind to the other attacker. They did not notice, not till a spear pierced the left soldier, knocking the unlucky man onto his knees. The momentary distraction was enough for Kay to cross the distance, and Einherjar pierced their bodies.

The lives of three soldiers meant nothing to the Empire, but Kay drew a slight satisfaction at dealing some damage to the imperial invaders. Pulling his crimson spear from their prone forms, he turned to face his comrade, Margus. It heartened him to see that his senior had made it to the gate unharmed. The grey paintwork of his tower shield was marred with deep scars, but the similarly coloured armour merely had a few nicks on it. It was clear that the proper use of his shield had prevented any injuries.

"Good to see you made it alive." Margus said with an easy smile. Though he seemed relaxed, his eyes showed that he had been concerned.

"I would never let the Empire take me so easily." Kay declared with a huff. "We have our duties, and we cannot die before we complete them. We _have_ to save the prince."

Save the prince. That was his captain's last order to him, before he had led the cavalier division against the imperial soldiers. It pained him that he was the only one away from the battlefield, but he knew the importance of this task. The royal bloodline of Bretwalde had to be kept alive. Crown Prince Serdic was the last heir to the throne. So long as he lived, there was a chance for Bretwalde to continue.

Margus, too, had understood this, separating from his platoon in this dangerous mission to protect the prince. The two had worked together to make it all the way to the castle gate. Now, the castle loomed before them. Before the attack, it had been Evgard's stronghold. Now, it was infested with enemies.

Somewhere within it was the prince.

"Let us hope that we are not too late." Kay murmured as a measure of doubt set in. Enough time had passed for the imperial soldiers to make a thorough sweep of the castle. Had the prince been able to escape detection? If he was caught, would he be killed outright?

Margus, his senior and mentor, seemed to be able to read his mind. With a steady voice, he reassured, "Prince Serdic should still be alive. The castle guards would do their utmost to protect him, and buy him time to escape. If the rumours of secret passageways in Luruze Castle are true, the prince could use them to hide, or maybe even escape."

"However, if we are wrong..." Margus paused, as if not wanting to consider the thought. Yet, he still continued, knowing the situation was dire enough for the worst to be a possibility. "If the worst truly has occurred, we would have to at least retrieve Spanta and bring it to Princess Marie. That would be the only way to preserve the Holy Bretwaldean lineage."

Kay clenched the reins of his horse, not liking the necessity of a plan for the worst case scenario. The fact that such a contingency was considered was already a failure in the eyes of the knight. If anything had happened to the prince...

"Kay! Margus!" A familiar voice broke his train of thought. The gloom in his heart was swept away when he turned to see the speaker.

The crown prince stood upon the steps to the castle door. He was alive and well! The two loyal vassals rushed to the prince's side, overjoyed that their prince was here.

"It's a true relief for us to see you safe and sound, Prince Serdic." Margus said as he dropped to his knees in a deep bow. Kay hurriedly dismounted and mimicked him, remembering his manners around royalty.

Prince Serdic let out an exasperated groan. "Up, both of you! We have little time for such pleasantries!" he cried. As Kay scrambled to his feet, he noted the smile upon the prince's lips. The prince continued in a softer voice. "Still, I appreciate your concern."

"It is our honour, Your Highn-?" Kay's words were lost when he saw the figure upon Prince Serdic's back. He thought he was seeing double, for this person had the exact same face as the prince. The facial features and the hair were identical, the biggest difference was that one was in blue robes and armour, while the other was in a simple black garb.

The prince was not surprised by his reaction. "I see you've noticed him. This man is my double. He suffered a grievous injury in the fight in the castle." Prince Serdic explained, non-plussed.

Margus was the first to recover from the sudden revelation. His words were well-meaning advice to the prince."Your Highness, while you may be worried for him, it would be best for you to leave him behind. An injured and unconscious man would only slow our escape."

The prince's eyes had turned steely at Margus' words. At this change, Margus added. "He would be fine. The Grand Meir soldiers have some honour. They would not attack an unarmed man."

The prince's reply was to shake his head. "An ordinary man, they would not harm. But, a man with the face of a prince? They would kill him." He said in retort. There was a fierceness in his look now, a clear sign that this double was important.

"Furthermore, this double has a role he must play. Thus, he'll come with us." The tone of the prince brook no argument. Margus dipped his head in acquiescence, though his eyes showed some reluctance.

"What are your plans, Prince Serdic?" Kay asked, eager to take the heat off his comrade. "We will do whatever necessary to aid you in escaping."

"I have not thought beyond getting horses." Prince Serdic confessed, moving in the direction of the stables. "I would welcome any input on the next course of action."

Though the prince did not turn back, his words were clearly directed at Margus. Kay gave Margus a relieved glance, before falling in line behind the prince. It was good that the prince did not begrudge the senior knight for his earlier suggestion.

"Your Highness, I would suggest we try sneak out from the south western gate. Although the south is where the empire's main force is encamped, currently, our royal army are still battling them. Their divisions will be distracted by the main force, and they would not notice us sneaking out by that gate." Margus proposed as he walked.

"Wouldn't the north entrance be a better choice? Going south would mean escaping the notice of three divisions, one being the Griffons, but the north only has a single division guarding it." Prince Serdic asked.

"That is true. However, this is the same division that served as the empire's strike force. I believe that the Grand given this job, Alberich of the Black Lions, would be on much higher alert for you, Prince Serdic." Margus explained. "There is also the Green Lions, the mage division, in the west. They are in good position to support the Black Lions should we try to escape north."

"We also have to consider where we will be heading to. It would be best for us to escape in the direction of the country we are to seek refuge in, to make it more difficult for the Empire's army to cut us off. If we go north, we would be closer to Verona or Almeria. South would put us closer to the Shalem Federation." Margus stated. The depth of the analysis showed the gap of experience between Kay and his senior. Kay himself had not thought beyond merely escaping the capital.

Kay noticed that Margus had left out a possible option. "Are the feudal states of Bretwalde are not an option?" Kay asked, thinking about his homeland. Surely, they could seek aid there?

"They would be the Empire's first target, after Evgard falls. It would do us no good to regroup so close to the Empire's main forces." Margus rationalised with a shake of his head. Margus, of course, knew what he was thinking about, but his words were clear about his duty. They were knights of Bretwalde, their priority was the survival of the prince.

The prince paused, weighing his options. "Between the three, Shalem is the closest. Almeria is out as we lack the supplies needed to cross the Ismael Desert. Verona is possible... but it is further away and may be too obvious. We'll go Shalem."

"The Shalem Federation should welcome you. Emir Darsin, the current leader, is a good friend of King Elliott." Margus assured as they reached the stables.

He was back at the stables. Just a few days ago, Kay had been here with his friends, getting ready for yet another of their commander's gruesome training exercises. With the situation as it is, the now nearly empty stables... would likely remain this for a long time.

The only horses that remained were the ones reserved for royal use. There were only two within the stables now. The first was an auburn stallion, with a white star upon its forehead. Spirit, the late King Elliott's steed. The second was the prince's own steed, Maximus. The white stallion lifted its head, gazing at the prince as he approached.

The prince suddenly came to a stop. His gaze wandered between both horses, before finally shaking his head.

"Margus... Take my horse. I'll take Spirit instead." the prince said as he grabbed the saddle and reins of his father's steed.

"Your Highness?" Margus spluttered, confused and slightly shaken at the prospect of using royal property. Kay too, was startled by the prince's words.

"Maximus was bred for steadiness and strength. He'll bear the weight of your armour better than Spirit." Prince Serdic said as he quickly outfitted his chosen horse.

It was a little bit strange. From Kay's perspective, both horses were of the best lineages, and the difference between the two was not much. Maximus might be the larger of the two, while Spirit was more sleek and fast. But surely that alone was not a reason for the prince to choose his father's horse over his own?

A sort of answer came in the prince's next words. "Maximus will also be carrying two, instead of one."

For the first time, Prince Serdic moved the double off his back. With care, he passed the unconscious man into Margus' arms.

"I'll entrust him to you, Margus. Please take care of him." The prince said. Margus accepted the extra weight with a wordless bow. Kay noted that the Prince had used the double's cloak to cover the double's face.

Was this...all for the double's sake? Who was he?

He had no time to think about it, not with the Prince ready to leave. There was a quick last check through the stables, to grab any sundries that could be useful, before they left.

They did not get far. They were stymied at the castle gates when they saw imperial soldiers reorganised at Luruze Castle's front gate. If it was merely just the armoured infantry, they would have been willing to breakthrough, using the mobility of their horses to get away. However, a single man adorned in black armour gave them pause.

"Black armour upon a black horse... That is Alberich of the Black Lions, the Commander of the Fifth Division. One of the Four Grands that serve Emperor Gauss." Margus said grimly. "He finally joined the hunt."

It was but a single man, but the fame of any of the Grands had spread far and wide. Each of the division commanders of Grand Mier had earned their titles with blood, and were said to be beasts upon the battlefields. They were the ones who had helped transform a once tiny feudal state into the Grand Meir Empire. Having one of them blocking their path... it felt like a colossus has chosen to stand in their way.

The silence stretched for minutes. There was no easy solution to their situation. They were only three knights and an unconscious man, hardly a force that could take on the Fifth Division of Grand Meir. Sneaking out was no longer an option, not with the castle gates effectively blockaded by the enemy.

The silence was broken by Margus. His suggestion came in a grim tone. "Kay, take Prince Serdic and head south. If you can make it to the road, you should be able to escape. I'll stay here and hold them off."

"Margus, wait! If it is being decoy, I can do it as well. I'm the one trained on horseback, I'll do better." Kay yelled in disagreement. Both knights knew that their top priority was the prince's escape, and neither had hesitated to offer their lives.

"A decoy plan..." The prince's musings cut off Margus' retort. "It would not work. It would be too obvious. The Grand Meir soldiers have already killed all the castle guards. Any lone Bretwaldean knight would clearly be a decoy of some sort. If they saw either of you, they would definitely search in the direction you came from. It would not be hard for them to imagine that the lone knight was acting decoy for the still living prince."

"That may be true, you Highness, but I don't see any other plan." Kay said, with a frown. "At the very least, the decoy would lure some portion of their forces out, and make it easier for you to break through."

Prince Serdic had fallen silent. Conflicted blue eyes were soon hidden beneath his eyelids. When he finally opened them again, the look in his eyes had changed. A steely determination had replaced the originally lost look.

"As there are no other possible plans, we'll have to go with the decoy one." He said grimly. "The armoured infantry is not the problem, with horses, we will easily outpace them. The real trouble is the Grand, Alberich. Whoever who is decoy must be able to draw him away."

Both of the knights lowered their heads, ready to receive the prince's order. One of them would have to take the role of the decoy... It would be the most difficult job they would have assigned to them. It might even be their last job.

"Margus... you will not be decoy." Prince Serdic's words were like a mandate from heavens, deciding who would live and die. Kay did not protest. As a knight of Bretwalde, he was ready to give his life in service of the prince.

"Kay..." The prince paused, as if not wanting to continue. Then, finally, three words spilled from his lips.

"Neither will you."

"P-Prince Serdic?!" Kay was flabbergasted. Even Margus was shocked by the prince's proclamation.

Unlike the two, the prince in front of them was perfectly calm. "I did say that whoever who was decoy had to lead the Grand away. Can either of you guarantee that he would follow you instead of coming in search of the one protecting the prince?"

"Then, what would you suggest?" Margus asked.

"Earlier on, I said that this double had a role to play. I suppose the time is now." The prince said.

Both knights cast a glance at the still unconscious man upon Maximus. Then, Margus' eyes narrowed.

"You..."

Margus words were cut off when the prince did something he would never do. The crown prince of Bretwalde, the successor to the throne... bowed to his two vassals.

"Kay. Margus. Please, take care of _my_ prince."

With these words, the man who Kay had thought to be the prince kicked his horse. The auburn stallion followed its orders faithfully, charging in the direction of the imperial soldiers, away from the two stunned knights.

 **Chapter 2: Sacrifices... sometimes are necessary**

 **-End-**

* * *

 **Author's note:**

Welcome to the beginning of unreliable narrators. This story may be written in third person point-of-view, but the narrators are still each of the point-of-view characters. Their narrations are limited to the knowledge they know, thus they can and will make mistakes. If you have played the game before, you may be in a better position than the characters to tell what is going on. Or maybe you won't, as this story is meant to deviate from the game. Well, what I am willing to tell is to use a bit of discretion while reading this story, as this will not be the only time that the characters will get things wrong.

On to the next point. Those who have played the game would have realised that the end of this chapter is the beginning of the first chapter in the game. This is partly due to some reshuffling of plot points, but mostly because I am trying to fill certain gaps in the story. I personally did not expect this, but the chapter was getting too long. I'm hoping this won't occur again, but looking at my story map... It's unlikely. I'll do my best not to have too many abrupt ends to chapters. Just remember, cliffhangers don't count. :P


	3. Luck is a lady

_**Refraction**_ **, a Rondo of Swords fanfiction**

 **Chapter 3: Luck is a lady...**

The decoy plan had been frighteningly effective. Upon the sight of the 'prince', every imperial soldier at the gate had moved to give chase. Some knights screamed of the bounty they would earn if they brought the prince's head, causing disorder in the ranks. The orderly wall of armoured knights scattered, each eager to claim glory for themselves. The commander had been shocked at the appearance of the 'prince's' sudden appearance, and the few seconds of hesitation had cost him the control of his division.

"Kay, we have to move now!" Margus yelled, coming to his senses. They would be unlikely to get another opportunity like this.

"But, but the prince-" Kay sputtered, still confused over the sudden turn in events.

"Is safe here with us. But, he won't be if we dally." Margus urged. He tapped Maximus' flanks, and the horse complied, galloping towards the gate. The imperial soldiers had all left by now, chasing their key to riches and the commander had followed, in hopes of regaining control of his greed-filled soldiers. Not a single one turned back for a second look, thus Margus and Kay was able to escape the Fifth Division without any issues.

"Margus... Later, explain to me what's going on." Kay spat out as he finally caught up from his slower start. His mouth was set in a scowl. He kept turning back, glancing towards the north exit where the 'prince' had escaped to. Margus realised that the junior knight had not fully understood what had occurred. Kay had only followed him because he trusted that Margus would make the right judgement.

"Later." Margus consented. It was not the time to explain. They had to bring the real prince out of the capital. He was now more keenly aware of the presence of his passenger. He hadn't been sure of his suspicions at first, but now...

 _"I'll entrust him to you" was what he said. So this was what he meant._ Margus thought.

His musings were cut short when a couple errant soldiers tried to block their path. Margus hesitated, jerking the reins to stop Maximus. He needed to grab his Sentinel Spear, which had been strapped to the horse, but the soldiers were almost upon him.

Then Kay burst forth, the Einherjar's edge sweeping right into the soldier's chestplates, knocking them back. The two took the opportunity to surge forth, soon leaving the foot soldiers behind.

"I'll take point. I'm still the better mounted combatant here." Kay said as he moved to the front.

"That you are." Margus agreed without a fuss. As an armoured infantry, mounted combat had not been a priority for his division. He had only learned the basics of riding, fighting upon horseback was best left for the actual cavaliers.

"Margus... earlier on, you said that if we headed towards the southwest gate, we would need to sneak past the three divisions at the gate right?" Kay asked. When Margus nodded, Kay continued his question. "Aren't you forgetting one? To get to the southwest gate, we need to go through west part of the city, where the Green Lions are..."

Kay had trailed off, and Margus knew why. The members of the Green Lions were predominantly mages. A magus corps was any army's greatest fear. Mages may not have the physical strength of the armoured knights nor the speed of cavaliers, but their magical prowess could not be underestimated. A well-trained mage corps could turn a battlefield into a wasteland and now, they were running straight into one.

"If we are lucky, they would notice that something is amiss with the Black Lions and follow." Margus said, though not liking the possibility. This would take all the heat off them, but would spell certain doom for the man who had acted as prince. Although he did not know who that man was, the fact that this man had prioritised the prince's life over his own was enough for Margus to consider him a fellow knight. He would not wish misfortune upon a comrade.

"And if we are not?" Kay asked, knowing that such luck did not come by so easily.

"Whatever we do, keep moving. The magic of the mages can reach far, but even they have their limits. Our advantage is that the Empire's mounted division is still outside the capital. So long as we can outpace the mages, we will be able to escape."

"And, if we meet the Grand?" Kay asked, considering the worst-case scenario.

"We run. As fast, and as far away as possible." Margus replied grimly.

If Kay had another question, it was forgotten when they rounded the corner. Occupying the southward road was a small squadron of soldiers. Unlike the soldiers of the First Division, these men were lightly armoured, choosing leather over metal for their shoulder pads and knee guards. They wore leather cuirasses for mobility. These soldiers were Grand Meir's light infantry. Ordinarily, this was a battle that Margus would chance, as the enemy numbers were barely double theirs, and they had the mobility advantage.

However, he knew a trap when he saw one. Rather than engage the soldiers, both knights opted to dart down the closest alleyway. They were barely in time, as green balls of lightning spiralled from the heavens, arriving at the position they were once at. Not finding their targets, the viridian balls pulsed once, before zipping down the alleyway after them.

Margus was unafraid. He knew well that all magic had a range. The Spark Edge spells were not a problem, after turning two corners, the mana powering the orbs exhausted itself, causing the orbs to simply fizzle out of existence. It was only when a green sputter of magic lit up the sky did he feel worried. Their location was being broadcasted to all.

It was no longer the time for words. Margus focused on keeping up with the actual cavalier, who was taking the most complicated route through the capital alleyways. Twice, they encountered mages hidden in the alcoves. Both times, they chose to escape, with green lightning raining around them as they fled. There was no time to fight - with the mages sending up signal flares, the chances of them getting surrounded were high.

Margus let out a relieved sigh when the next turn Kay took brought them alongside the city walls. The mess of turns had been dizzying, but Kay apparently knew the way well enough to bring the two to the perimeter of the city. Of course, now they had to break through the southwest gate, which would be undoubtedly heavily guarded-

And his mind screeched to a stop when he saw the situation at the gate. Both Maximus and Gawain gave little whinnies when their riders tugged their reins a bit too sharply. Margus did not hear the horses' complaints, he was busy staring.

What his eyes showed him was a long-haired man with green robes. Slit-like grey eyes gave him an arrogant, hawkish look. He did not wield a staff, and instead had a blade buckled to his belt . This was the commander of the Green Lions, Ernest the Mage General, one of the very few mages that could utilise the sword.

The Grand was alone. A mage without any guards, just a single man between them and their goal. There was no way for just one mage to block their path, nor to chase after them. The gate might as well be unguarded.

"I've never thought I would be glad to see the Grand. " Kay said, shaking his head.

"Lady luck must be smiling on us today." Margus remarked with a relieved smile. "We'd best not disappoint her by failing to make it through despite her graces."

"I'll take the left, and you the right?" Kay asked, his tone light.

"As usual. Go at full speed. Even alone, he is a Grand. We'll have to go through thunder and lightning once more." Margus cautioned.

There was a nod in reply. Both knights charged out of the side street at the same time, sweeping past the astonished grand. Their horses easily crossed under the open city gate, the clacks of their hooves against the pavement soon being muffled by the soft grass. They had made it out of Evgard.

Experience had taught Margus to never be complacent. He had never taken his eyes off the Grand, knowing that any unattended enemy mage could wreck dozens of knights. He urged Maximus to go faster when he saw Ernest recover from his shock and take out his sword. A crazed look had entered the mage's eyes and in moments, he had summoned dozens of bolts of green lightning. The bolts flowed into each other, merged together, moulding themselves into a reptilian form. Soon, a giant green lizard had taken form above the mage.

Dread settled in the pit of Margus' stomach when he realised that neither of them were out of range of the spell yet. There was naught that he could do, he was no longer within striking distance of the mage. If only he had a ranged attack...

Without warning, a red beam of light descended from the sky, slamming into the Grand. The momentary distraction had an effect upon the great spell, the lizard's seemingly solid form started to flicker. What efforts the Grand put in to control the spell was wasted, as moments later, the mass of magic power exploded. At the centre of the spell, the Grand was the first to fall unconscious.

When Ernest finally regained his senses, he would call for whatever that remained of his division to scour the central plains. It would be a futile effort, for the two Bretwaldean knights would have long since escaped.

* * *

His heart pounded as he charged right through yet another ambush team, Spirit trampling over an unlucky mage. His sword came down upon the other unharmed mage - he did not want to deal with magic in his escape. Everyone else was left unharmed. He had not the time, not with death racing from behind. He did not need to turn around to know that Alberich was after him.

The grand had never stopped the chase, he only slowed down when he gave new commands to his errant division. Despite this, the gap had not widened. The double had been equally hampered when he encountered more ambushes. He guessed that news of the 'prince' had spread to the Green Lions, drawing a part of their forces to block his path. The double hoped that at least, Margus and Kay would have an easier time escaping, with the Green Lions spread thin.

He had taken the most direct route to out of the city, rushing down the main street. He supposed that the only reason why it was not more heavily guarded was the fact that Alberich had moved the whole division to the castle earlier. It was a bit of good luck, if there had been walls of armoured soldiers at the gate, there would be no way for him to charge through like how he had done so to the small ambush teams. In another few minutes, the north castle gate came into view. The way ahead was clear.

Unfortunately, merely escaping from the city was not enough now. He had to shake off his pursuer. He turned back and let out a gasp. The grand had closed in, having coaxed another burst of speed from his steed. There was a slight desperation in his eyes, the 'prince' was too close to escaping.

A quick double-tap against Spirit's ribs was enough the spur the steed. The auburn horse broke into a full-on gallop, and soon broke past the city limits, entering the northern plains of Bretwalde. There was no time to feel relieved, as even the increase in pace merely kept the gap from narrowing further.

The double knew that his horse's current speed could not be maintained for too long. Spirit had not been raised as a warhorse, thus lacked the stamina to keep up his speed. Alberich's horse would be able to keep its top speed longer than Spirit could. All the grand had to do was to keep his pace for a few more minutes, and Spirit would tire enough for him to catch up.

Alberich was evidently too impatient to wait for that to happen. His horse suddenly reared up, and trails of darkness started to gather around them both. In moments, they were enveloped by shadows, the only indication that both rider and horse were under the darkness were the red gleams of their eyes.

When the two charged again, the gap was crossed in an instant. The dark lance came straight for his chest, but Spanta reacted, throwing itself upwards to parry the blow. The force of the collision threw the double off his horse, and it was a miracle that he had managed to land on his feet. He heard a heavy thud, and hoped that Spirit was still alive. For now, he had to somehow ward off the grand.

However, as seconds passed, he realised that the grand was not acting. The darkness soon faded from the grand's body, and the double could see a deep frown on his face.

The lance moved, but all it did was to point at the sword he wielded. "That is not Spanta." The grand gritted out. "Which means, you aren't actually the prince, are you?"

The double blinked. Then he realised the issue. The blade of the Holy Knight Altrius was known for being impossible to make a replica of, as the ethereal aura it possessed was too distinctive. However, the holy blade had been cursed, resulting in it losing its golden sheen. The grand had taken the blade's current appearance to mean that the sword was a fake. The conjecture was wrong, but he had hit upon a truth that few had known before, that the prince had a double.

The grand continued speaking. "It seems the Holy Kingdom hid some of its cards deeply. I suppose, that the real prince is currently escaping in the opposite direction?" His tone was easy, but the spear levelled at the double told him that it was a threat. It made sense, the grand had no reason to spare an enemy knight, not in this war.

"I apologise. As a knight of Bretwalde, I cannot answer that." The double said, as he shifted into a combat stance. He did not know his chances against one of the grands, but he had to fight. He still had to return Spanta to the prince.

"That answers some of my questions. I was wondering why the prince was being idiotic enough to show himself in front of my entire platoon and why he chose to fled alone." Alberich muttered. He then shook his head and put some distance in between himself and the double. Charging distance, the double realised.

"Then, knight of Bretwalde, are you willing to die for that prince of yours?" The grand yelled, giving him one final chance to surrender.

The double simply smiled. That was not even a question to him. All he did was raise his blade slightly higher, awaiting the grand's charge.

It never came for the heavens had other plans. The sky had turned overcast, clouds blanketing the originally clear skies. Green ripples of lightning darted through the grey clouds, all of which were travelling to a spot in the sky at the south of Evgard. The lightning swirled together, merging into a solid form of a lizard. The double shivered at the sight. This was lightning, the most unstable of the three stable elements, how could anyone coalescence it into a solid form?

However, the next moment, it was clear that whatever spell it was, it had not worked correctly. One moment, the lizard was poised to strike, and the next, it's form flickered. Then, the mass of magic suddenly blasted apart, the shockwave scattering the overcast clouds. Light returned to the lands, though it left the double with some confusion.

"Twisted Fury? What the hell is Ernest doing?" The grand was muttering. It seemed that the Alberich had a better idea of what that was happening at the capital. The grand seemed to be at a loss, looking between the double and the capital. The spell had apparently changed the situation drastically. The double was no longer a priority.

After a few more agonised seconds, Alberich made his decision. "My duty was to bring back the prince of Bretwalde. I've wasted enough time chasing after you. You can go."

The double could barely believe that the grand would just leave. He was only a single knight against the grand - it would not take very long for the grand to kill him. However, whatever that had happened at Evgard apparently required the immediate attention of the grand. Still, the double did not dare lower his blade. It was better to err on the side of caution.

Alberich let out a small huff. "I am not so dishonourable as to go back on my word." The grand strapped his spear to his back and turned his horse around. It seemed he was truly leaving.

"It is rare to see a knight with such devotion to his master. If the circumstances were different..." His words trailed off. He shook his head, ignoring the wishful thinking, and headed back to Evgard.

Only when the black clad grand had disappeared into the city did the double finally sheath his blade. He could barely believe his luck. In truth, he had not much hope that he would escape Evgard alive. He had only hoped that he acting as a decoy would be enough to let the prince escape.

His spirits were raised further when he found that Spirit was still alive. The horse let out a low neigh when he approached to check on its wounds. The blow from Alberich had knocked the stallion on to his side, but there were no more than bruises. So long as he did not force Spirit to gallop, it would soon recover.

Grabbing the reins of the horse, the double started leading it away. He did not have a specific destination in mind, but he knew better than to linger near the capital. Evgard, no... the entire country of Bretwalde was no longer a safe haven for him. He had to leave before the Empire sent out more people in search of the prince.

He casted one last look at Evgard before leaving. He knew it would be a long, long time before he could return again.

* * *

Miles in the southward direction, Kay and Margus were galloping as fast as they could press their horses. Although the grand had been temporarily incapacitated, the spell had been too eye-catching. There was no doubt that some imperial soldiers would come to investigate, and in time, search parties would be sent out. Knowing this, Kay spurred Gawain, urging his partner to keep his top speed. Gawain complied without issue. However, mere minutes later, it was evident that their current speed could not be maintained.

"Kay, slow down! I don't think Maximus can keep the pace much longer!" Margus yelled, slowing his steed. The white stallion's breath was uneven and its eyes were unfocused. It was barely holding on. The reason for this was the doubled weight the horse was carrying. Kay cursed himself for being too impatient. The horse needed rest if it was to continue the journey. Looking around, he soon spotted a familiar thicket and guided his senior there. The small clump of trees would be able to hide them from immediate view, and importantly, also had a spring.

Margus understood upon seeing the place, dismounting quickly from the tired horse and carrying down the other passenger. The tired horse relaxed, then slowly headed to the spring for a drink.

"Are you alright, Kay?" Margus asked as he set down the person he was carrying. Kay of course knew that his senior was referring to his use of his Overbreak. When Ernest had casted that terrifying spell, Einherjar had reacted, its warm pulse reminding him of the power that the spear had. By sacrificing a part of his vitality, he was able to strike the grand from afar, shattering Ernest's concentration and allowing them to escape. However, this move was something he rarely used. It was called Last Resort for a reason - his arm was still weak even after several minutes of rest.

"I'm fine. Just a little numb." Kay replied, rubbing his arm. He didn't particularly like his Overbreak, but he knew he was luckier that most of the soldiers that never obtained such a power. Such power only manifested when the right weapon met the right owner, and it was said to reflect the wielder's soul. It might be right, as Last Resort did give the reckless, hot-headed vibe that Margus had often chided him for.

His musings were cut short when his eyes fell upon the person Margus had set down. Deciding that there was no better time than now, Kay dismounted and asked, "So, Margus... is this really Prince Serdic?"

"Most likely." Margus replied. Upon seeing Kay's incredulous look, he continued, "I cannot say yes because I have no proof, but it is more likely that this is the prince. The man that we spoke to today was probably the double."

"I've never heard of Prince Serdic having a body double before." Kay remarked, his tone in slight disbelief.

"A body double would not have been effective if people knew that it existed. It was likely that very few people knew. They would not spread such information to us ordinary knights." Margus replied. "The body double must have been in the castle when the attack occurred. I suppose he found the prince injured, and tried to escape with him. When he saw us, he chose to enlist our help by acting as Prince Serdic. We would ask less questions that way."

"Did you know from the beginning, Margus?" Kay asked, wondering if the senior knight, with more insight and experience, had noticed that they had been tricked.

Margus shook his head. He too, had been fooled. "In truth, at first, I wondered more about why Prince Serdic would want to protect his double. I thought it was suspicious, but I never thought that the prince we were talking to was actually the double. His looks, mannerisms, even the tone of the voice... it was exactly the same. I only truly understood the situation when the double took off."

Silence took over the small group when they remembered what the double had done. Kay hoped that the man was still alive. They were alive thanks to his actions.

"For now, let's see why Prince Serdic has not awoken. There had to be some reason why he has remained unconscious till now." Margus said as he turned back to the prince. His movements were gentle as he searched the prince's body for wounds.

Kay knelt down to help. His hand idly brushed by a part of the black clothes and he realised that it was hard, like something had dried into it. Curious, he scratched at it, and flakes of red fell upon his fingers. His heart stopped when he realised it was blood. A large part of the prince's clothes was crusted in dried blood.

Margus had quickly flipped the prince's shirt up, and found traces of wiped blood upon his body. Dried blood but no injury. Both knights had seen this situation before. The prince had been treated with salves. However, considering the amount of bloodstains...

Margus was already moving, grabbing Sentinel from where he had left it. He placed his free hand upon the prince and focused. A white gentle aura appeared, flowing from the Margus to Prince Serdic. Kay knew that this was Margus' Overbreak. Cheekily called Share the Love, it gave Margus the ability to share his vitality with others.

"How is the prince?" Kay asked as the white light died down.

"Not good. He lost a lot of blood." Margus said, with a shake of his head. "It'll be in our best interests to head for Shalem as soon as possible so we can get proper healers to check on him. I have no idea if my Overbreak helps with lost blood."

Kay threw a glance at the horses. "Maximus seems somewhat recovered. If you pass Prince Serdic to me, then Maximus should be able to carry you. So long as we do not gallop, Gawain should be able to carry both me and Prince Serdic. This way, we'll be able to at least make some headway towards Shalem."

"Aye, that may be the best option for now." Margus agreed.

The two knights immediately set off. The knowledge of the prince's condition spurred them to hurry towards their destination. Their journey would be a long one, but eventually, they would reach Shalem, where they were welcomed into its halls. It would be there where the weary knights would be able to obtain rest.

 **Chapter 3: Luck is a lady... Be glad when she smiles**

 **-End-**

* * *

 **Author's note:**

And finally, I am done with Chapter 1 of the game! Three story chapters for one game chapter. Definitely not what I expected when I first started writing this. The ratio definitely won't be constant, with what I've planned for future chapters, but it is rather scary. I am writing a lot more than I expected.

We are coming up to a point where trying to keep the story in proper chronological order will be difficult, since we have our characters split up, and different things may be occurring to them at the same time. I may end up wanting to write both sides of the same situation in the future, so do note. I will make it clear when this does occur though. There will be some sort of narrative landmark or time stamp, something like Ernest's lizard, when I have to do this again.

From here on, the story will start to branch quite a bit. It may be a bit of the butterfly effect, but we won't have hurricanes on so early. The early parts should all be recognisable... though I might play with your expectations. If you want to know what I mean, then read on.


	4. Recovery

_**Refraction**_ **, a Rondo of Swords fanfiction**

 **Chapter 4: Recovery...**

It had been two week since then. Fourteen days since the double had fled from Luruze Castle, his home for the past year. For the first ten days, he had crossed the Mireneh Plains and rushed towards the outskirts of Bretwalde. It was a necessary measure, for the closer he was to the capital, the more likely his face would be recognised. It was best to keep a low profile.

He pulled down the hood of his cloak over his head as he stepped out of his room. He had long since changed out of the bloodied blue robes and armour, they had been packed into a saddle bag upon Spirit. Instead, he wore a grey shirt and pants under a brown cloak. His new attire had been purchased from a wandering merchant he had met upon the Mirenah Plains. He was glad he knew of the secret compartment inside the saddle where the late king Elliott had kept some coins. Otherwise, he would have not the supplies to make it all the way to this border town. With the coins, he had been able to buy supplies, clothes as well as rent a small room in the inn at the town.

In truth, the double had been at a loss as to what to do at first. He knew he had to return Spanta to the prince, but he could hardly turn around, not with the Grand Meir army separating him from Kay and Margus. Even if he made a detour, he would never catch up. And he would rather not rendezvous at Shalem, as it would be difficult to explain the existence of a double that nobody was to know. His existence was meant to be a secret.

However, a week ago, when he was still crossing the Mirenah Plains, he had an unexpected visitor. Aska, the prince's white goshawk, had found him as he crossed the plains. The hawk had been carrying messages between the prince and his sister on a monthly basis, and was the only means of communications between the two. Remembering that the princess had not arrived as expected for the king's funeral, the double mentally apologised as he peeked into the message meant for his prince.

Receiving the message had led him to remember the commands that the prince had given him. There were three: to cleanse Spanta, to protect Bretwalde, and to protect Marie. He had promised to aid Serdic in achieving these, but only one was really possible to him. He could only try to cleanse the holy blade. That was now his goal, but he had yet to find a way to achieve it. His tentative plan was to head to the Divine Nation of Verona, where there were the country with the most Light magicians. Maybe there, he would find someone knowledgeable about dispelling the curse upon Spanta. He had written out his plans and rolled it with the princess' own letter, then sent the goshawk on towards Shalem. From then on, he had travelled towards the borders of Bretwalde.

It was his third day at this border town, and he was eager to leave before rumours of a cloaked traveller spread too far. He would have left earlier, but the only apothecary in the town had sold out of healing salves. He had been told to wait for the next shipment, which ought to have come in this morning. As he entered the apothecary, he saw a large group of customers making their purchases. The shipment had arrived.

He had been last in the queue, and left when there was no other customers left in the store. Yet, as he walked back, he could heard a patter of footsteps behind him. Feeling a little suspicious, he turned down the closest alleyway. Whoever it was followed him in. The double continued at a steady pace, but his right hand had shifted down to grasp his blade. He was tense, awaiting a sudden attack.

And his expectations were shattered when a young voice called, "Prince Serdic?"

Turning around, he realised that the follower was a child that could not be past sixteen. Turquoise eyes scrutinised him. It was a strange colour, but it matched his hair, and fitted with the blue robes set upon his shoulders. Carried in his hand, was a staff that looked like it was made entirely out of ice. A staff like that meant that the boy was a magician despite his tender age.

"Who are you?" he asked, more curious than wary. The boy had called out to him, rather than attack, and he doubted that the Grand Meir Empire had such young assassins.

"I am Selmer, a magician from Almeria. Are you the Crown Prince of Bretwalde, Serdic?" The boy asked.

The boy, Selmer, had asked a question which would have been easy enough for the actual prince to answer. For the double, however, the situation was far more complex. What should he do?

The double took a deep breath, then pulled down his hood. The boy, Selmer, let out a gasp.

"Prince Serdic! I truly did not expect to meet you here. I heard rumours that the Bretwalde army had fled to Shalem and was about to travel there instead." Selmer exclaimed.

 _Breathe. Think like Serdic._ The double thought, trying to calm himself. It was not the first time he had been thrown into a situation where he had to act as the prince without prior information, but each instance still scared him.

"You were looking for me?" the double asked, keeping his voice steady.

"Yes, my Master Arios ordered me to find you and help as best I can." Selmer replied.

Neither names were familiar to him. Figuring that he needed to buy some time, he pulled his hood back on and said, "Here is not a good place to talk. I have a room at the inn, we can talk there."

On the walk back, the double tried to remember what he knew of Almeria. The books he had read had called it the Magic Nation, as it boasted the highest population of magicians in the world. This was due to the Ark, an academy meant for mages. Ordinary people flocked there, in hopes of being identified as one with the gift for magic while established magicians headed there for their libraries.

Almeria and Bretwalde had fairly good ties with each other, even though contact between the two countries were infrequent. Serdic had mentioned that he had been there a couple of times. However, it had been an off-hand mention, the prince had never went into details of what he did there. This meant he would have to play this whole thing by ear...

When they reached his room in the inn, the double made sure to close both doors and windows, before turning to the mage.

"In truth, I never imagined that Almeria's mages would send aid." he remarked. He did not imagine meeting anyone from Almeria when he had chosen to flee north.

Selmer raised an eyebrow, saying, "You've previously been a friend to us quite often, Prince Serdic. We cannot sit idly by when you're in danger."

A friend. Did this mean that Serdic had done some favours for Almeria? However, Selmer had said that he came due to his master's orders, and not on behalf of Almeria. It would be strange if Almeria's aid came in the form of a single mage. To clarify, he asked Selmer, " Are you here merely on behalf of your master?"

Selmer understood what he was asking. With a frown, he explained, "When the news of Bretwalde's fall reached Almeria, the whole nation was shocked. Bretwalde fell extremely quickly, and there were many that felt that the Grand Meir Empire would be a new power upon the land. Of course, there were also those that supported Bretwalde... The two sides have been arguing in the council, and when I left, they had yet to come to a decision. Master Arios instructed me to go and find you first and provide aid, rather than waste time waiting for the Ark to come to a unified decision."

Seeing a frown appearing, Selmer apologised with a bow. "I apologise. With Almeria's democratic system, it is more difficult for us to be decisive. The Ark would need a majority of votes before it can actively lend aid to Bretwalde."

"There is no need to apologise for something that is no fault of yours." The double said, understanding the situation. "I appreciate that you have come to give aid, despite your troubles."

Selmer dipped his head, seeming relieved that the double did not take offense. Feeling more confident, Selmer asked, "Prince Serdic, it seems that you are travelling alone. Did anything happen to your guards?"

The troublesome questions had come one after another. To this one, the double had no choice but to lie. He told a somewhat different story than what had actually occurred, where the prince had escaped due to the two knights being decoy. At the mage's queries, he answered more questions about the Grand Meir's forces, and the ultimate state of Bretwalde's army.

"I had hoped that the news we received was exaggerating , but the situation truly is dire." Selmer commented. "As of now, you have no army, nor do you have the authority to gain one."

"...Both can be obtained when I am coronated. For now, I have a more pressing issue." The double said, remembering the contents of Princess Marie's letter. He reached to his waist and pulled out the sword sheathed at his waist.

Spanta came out smoothly. Its appearance had not changed since that day. Despite still having its golden hilt and immaculate silver blade, it no longer possessed the aura of the holy sword of legends. The curse upon the blade hid within the metal, blocking the true power of the blade. The double had only felt the hum of its power once since then, when the blade had moved to protect him from Alberich's strike. Afterwards, it had remained quiet, feeling more like an ordinary sword than a sacred artifact.

"Spanta was cursed during the siege. I cannot be coronated with the Holy Emblem of Bretwalde in this state." The double explained to Selmer.

At his request, the double passed the cursed blade to Selmer. After a moment of inspection, the mage returned the blade to him. "I might have a possible solution. I can feel magical power from the sword. And where magic is concerned, my master, Arios, may be able to intercede. " Selmer suggested.

This was a suggestion he had not considered before, as he had never imagined that he would be able to get the aid of Almerian magicians. Almeria was a country that studied magic, so Selmer's master might have more knowledge of how to cleanse the curse upon the blade. Furthermore, with this Arios having sent aid, it was more likely that he would be willing to help. It seemed that his new destination was Almeria.

He dipped his head in agreement, and started to discuss the supplies required to cross the Ismael Desert.

* * *

Ansom left the meeting with a smile, and a non-committal reply to the requests of the other tribes. His face had stayed calm, his words had been pleasant, albeit sounding slightly troubled. However, the moment they had stepped out, his footsteps had suddenly quickened. The loud thuds of his shoes upon the floor betrayed his true intentions.

"Calm your heart, Ansom. Anger does not serve us well here." His father, Emir Darsin chided as he followed the younger Emir through the castle halls. "The Shalem Federation, like all other nations, stands at a crossroads now. Their proposal is a possible solution for the Shalem to take."

"Giving in to the Grand Meir Empire would be consigning ourselves under their rule. It would mean losing our hard-earned independence! It took us centuries to gain recognition as a country, and now they would forfeit it and expose our people to the Empire's whims?" Ansom gritted out. He could not believe the gall of the other representatives. The Ga, Ma, Ha and Ra tribes knew nothing about the burdens their Na tribe had to go through to keep the country's autonomy.

His father let out a sigh. "Bretwalde fell too quickly. It did not even last a day of siege. Their army was wiped out, and there has been no news of their royals." Darsin said, encompassing the news the Shalem Federation had received.

"In their eyes, Bretwalde is lost. Bretwalde may not be the strongest military power on the continent, but it is still the country founded by the Holy King Altrius. Its military strength exceeds ours, yet the country went down within a day. The Grand Meir Empire may have employed some trickery, but the fact remains that one of the powers on Bravord has fallen to their might. It is not unexpected that some of the tribes would be willing to bow their heads." The father continued.

"...At least, for now, we can stall." Ansom muttered. "So long as Grand Meir has yet to demand our surrender, the other tribes cannot force us to do so."

His father nodded. "For now, Grand Meir is busy subjugating the rest of Bretwalde. We have some time. Our time should be spent looking after our guests."

Ansom understood. At the next intersection, he was unsurprised when the older Emir turned and left him. Other than the first time, his father had not accompanied him in seeing their guests. His father had left this job to Ansom alone.

It was simple to distinguish which of the guest rooms were occupied, for only one had a closed door. It was not locked, meaning that the occupant was awake. Pulling the door open, he stepped in to see two people in the room. One was his bodyguard, Sasha, relieved from her usual duties at his side to stand guard over their guest. The other was sitting up upon the only bed in the room, sipping a cup of tea. The person looked up at his arrival.

"Oh, it's Ansom! Or, should I be calling you Emir Ansom now?" A cheery voice sounded. The supposedly missing prince of Bretwalde smirked at him from his position on the bed."You never told me that you've already reached the position of Emir. I had to learn from Sasha!"

"It slipped my mind. I had other things to worry about, like how to hide the appearance of two Bretwaldean knights and their prince." Ansom said, remembering their appearance a week ago.

That night, Sasha had roused him from his sleep, stating that their patrols had found knights that claimed to be from Bretwalde. When she reported that the crown prince of Bretwalde was with the group, the young Emir had immediately rushed down to see the situation with his own eyes. The report had not been wrong. He found Serdic unconscious upon the back of a horse, with his complexion dreadfully pale. Ansom did not wait for the knights to report, immediately calling healers for his friend. He had not been too late. After a few days of round-the-clock care, the Bretwaldean prince had finally awoken.

The cheery facade faded at the young chieftain light chide. The prince looked thoughtful at his words. Then, he dipped his head slightly. "I apologise. I must have caused trouble for you."

"It was little trouble to us. Your knights were prudent, and avoided being seen by the other tribes. Only people of the Na tribe know that you are here, and my father has already ordered that no news about you is to be leaked out." Ansom replied. "There is no problem with us sheltering you, the Na tribe and Bretwalde have been allies for centuries."

"I am in your debt." Serdic said. The sentence was all of five words, but the sincerity within them told him that his friend was grateful.

It felt somewhat strange to him, that Serdic had become so formal in his thanks. His way of speaking itself had changed, as if he was minding every word he said. It was likely an effect of the education to groom him into king. And along with the education, came the responsibilities he was to uphold. He was not surprised when Serdi suddenly made a request.

"Sasha, could you call my knights over? I'd like a firsthand account of Bretwalde's current state."

* * *

Serdic watched as the black haired retainer exited the room. There was the slightest twinge of jealousy, over how simple it was for her to cross the distance. His own body felt like lead, and his few previous attempts to get out of bed had required her aid.

"Are you sure you are alright?" Ansom turned to ask after Sasha had left. His friend's black eyes skimmed over his body. Serdic was glad that the paleness of his skin had receded over the days he had been awake. Considering how much he had bled, he was lucky to still be breathing. Physically, he was fine, not at his best, but he was recovering.

Mentally... was a different issue. How could a prince who had lost his kingdom be alright? The harsh reality had crashed down upon him the moment he had awoken. He had let Bretwalde, his homeland, be conquered by Grand Meir. The lands and the people of Bretwalde, the countrymen he was meant to protect, were now at the mercy of Grand Meir's whims. The bitter taste of failure hued his days. He lamented his weak state, even now, he craved for the ability to do something, anything. It was a slow torture, being confined to his bed, with nothing to do but to think about his failure. His only consolation was that he was still alive. He still had the chance to reclaim Bretwalde.

The slight change of his expression had been caught by his attentive friend. Ansom's eyebrows narrowed. "Don't push yourself if you aren't feeling fine." he admonished.

His concern had been mistaken, yet Serdic felt warm. It had been years since his last visit to Shalem, and since then, the two once-boys had busied themselves in learning to take up their respective roles for their countries. Despite this, the ties forged in boyhood had remained. In the few waking moments Serdic had shared with Ansom, the two had reminisced about the their time together in Shalem, when the responsibilities they carried were less. Serdic knew that part of the reason that Ansom stood so firmly upon his side was due to their friendship, and for that, he was ever grateful.

"I'm fine, Ansom." Serdic said to assure his worried friend. The simple concern had assuaged his heart. His mind calmer, he waited for his knights to arrive.

Sasha had been swift, or his knights had been close by, as barely minutes had passed before he saw all three of the file in. Upon seeing the prince awake, relief was clearly seen in the knights' eyes. Both bowed, but it was Margus that said, "I'm glad to see you well, Prince Serdic."

"I heard from Sasha and Ansom that it was the two of you that brought me out of Bretwalde. You have my thanks." Serdic said.

"We were merely performing our duty." Margus said with a smile. Kay had nodded as well, content at letting Margus talk for the both of them. A rare sight, for Serdic had always remembered the red knight to be eager to talk to him.

Serdic moved on to his objective. "Kay, Margus, you should know that I was not conscious during the attack upon Bretwalde. I would like to know the situation in more detail. Tell me about when you were escaping Evgard."

Unlike what he had expected, Margus hesitated. The two knights sent quick looks to each other. Then, Margus slowly said, "Prince Serdic, it might be better for me to make this report privately."

Serdic mulled over the words. There had been some agreement between Kay and Margus evidently, over some information that they had deemed for his ears only. It was no wonder Margus was taking charge here, as Kay's lips were looser. He took stock of the Shalemian's reactions. At his side, Sasha was frowning. Ansom remained impassive. Neither of them said anything.

It did not take him long to figure out the reason for his knight's insistence on discretion. He soon settled on a course of action.

"Ansom. If I'm not wrong, this room is in a rather lonesome spot in the castle. The only people that can come here are those authorised by you or Emir Darsin, and they are always accompanied by either Sasha, Kay or Margus. The healers and the servants also only come in at the appointed times. Thus, unless my sense of time is off, there should not be anyone nearby to eavesdrop. Am I correct in these assumptions?" Serdic queried.

"... You are right. In truth, few know of your presence here. My father gave strict orders to not let this information leak out. Outside of those in this room, only my father, the healers, and a few servants know that you are in this room. Furthermore, the walls here are thick, and sound does not travel far." Ansom replied, shedding a little more light upon the situation. The fact that he was being hidden did not surprise him. It was already to his advantage.

"Then, Sasha, would you close the door?" Serdic requested. When this was done, he turned to his knights.

"Kay, Margus... Please tell me about the events that occurred at Evgard on the day of Grand Meir's invasion. I would like a true account that does not leave out any details." he said, leaving no room for his knights to argue.

However, a refute still came, from an unlikely source. "Are you sure that is wise?" Sasha asked, ignoring a glance from Ansom. "I understand that this is a show of faith, Prince Serdic, but there may be some personal news meant only for you. "

"I already have a rough idea as to what they have to report." Serdic admitted, to Sasha's surprise. "There is only a limited amount of knowledge that is worth hiding from our allies. "

He turned to the awaiting knights. "The last person I saw before I fell unconscious was my double. Tell me, what happened to him?"

Seeing his prince resolutely sticking to his decision, Margus dipped his head and dutifully made his report. The only person who interjected was Kay, and he only did so to fill in any gaps. When they finished, the room was silent, with each occupant mulling over the new facts received. The bearers of bad news watched their prince quietly, awaiting for his next words.

"So, he became the decoy to lure Alberich away..." Serdic murmured. It was a hard fact to accept, that the person who had saved him had went on to risk his life, all for the sake of ensuring he escaped. He had known that his double was loyal, but to know that he would be willing to die for him...

His hands had clenched into fists, and he was thankful they were hidden under the sheets. As a prince, it was supposed to be normal for his knights to die for him. It was something that he was expected to accept. However, receiving the news had made his heart stop. It was... difficult to simply accept things as they were.

"Ansom, have there been any news from Grand Meir? Have they made any demands?" Serdic asked as a thought, a slight hope occurred to him.

"They have not. We presume they are still busy subjugating the rest of Bretwalde." Ansom replied, shaking his head. His words had been meant as informative, but it served as another reminder of the prince's failure. It took effort to unclench his hands and continue his queries.

"...So, no news about them killing the Bretwaldean prince?" Serdic asked. When everyone gave him confused look, he let out a laugh. At least, there was still a silver lining. "Then, he managed to get away. If Grand Meir did kill him, they would have spread the news to intimidate all the other countries." He said, feeling relief.

"Are you referring to your double? Would he really be able to fool Grand Meir?" Sasha asked, curious.

The weight in his heart lessened, Serdic felt less stressed. A small bit of mischievousness bled into his voice as he threw the question over. "What did you think, Kay? Did you call him Prince Serdic?"

The stunned look on the red knight's face was enough of an answer. Kay was tongue-tied, unsure if admitting that he had been completely fooled would be considered disrespectful to the prince. As seconds passed, and Margus did not interject, he knew he had to answer. Finally, he dipped his head and admitted, "I was completely fooled. He looked exactly the same, and even spoke the same way you did."

"He would not have been my double if he didn't. The only person who could tell when he was acting as me was my father." Serdic replied, remembering the time that he did ask his double to try. "We'll have to go find him soon."

"Prince Serdic...Surely, he isn't that important?" Margus asked, apparently noting what had been the focus of the prince's questions.

Serdic was admittedly rather worried over his loyal double, but there was a second reason for his concern. He thought about how to drop this piece of information, then decided that the most direct way was the best way. "Oh, he is. Unless you tell me that he returned Spanta before galloping off to be decoy."

The cacophony of exclamations made him regret his decision. He hoped that the walls of the room was truly as thick as Ansom had said them to be.

"You passed _Spanta_ to your double?" Sasha asked, shocked that the holy emblem of Bretwalde was not with the prince.

"He would not be a very convincing double, otherwise." Serdic replied, settling on a half-truth. What that had transpired while he was bleeding to death need not be mentioned just yet. Seeing that the others still looked sceptical, he threw in another bit of information. "Spanta would not be very useful even if I had it. It was cursed in the siege."

"Cursed?" Margus queried, echoing the thoughts of the rest.

Serdic thought for a bit before answering. "One of the things Grand Meir prepared to cripple Bretwalde. Among the soldiers that attacked me, there was one that was able to curse the sword. Spanta's powers have weakened, and it has lost its glow. " Remembering the dark powers that had corroded the blade, he could not help but feel that Grand Meir had been too well prepared. For now though, he put the thought aside. There was little he could do to check his suspicions in his current state.

"Either way, as you do not have Spanta, you cannot rely on it. Not having Bretwalde's royal emblem will make things difficult. It's a symbol of political authority, without it, it will be difficult to get the people to fight for you." Ansom pointed out.

"It would be troublesome either way." Serdic said with a shake of his head. "Well, that's for the far-off future, when I'm actually recovered enough to convince people."

His words had been a slight hyperbole, but Ansom had heard the tiredness that had crept into his voice. "We have kept you up for long." The Emir noted. Kay and Margus understood that they were being dismissed. When Serdic gave a nod, they bade him farewell and left the prince to his rest.

Sasha was the last of the retainers to reach the door, and she held the door open for her master to leave. To her surprise, the Emir did not move just yet. Ansom waited till the prince's knights were out of sight before speaking.

"You aren't fine, Serdic. And I know you have no reason to be. But, for now, it's not productive for you to dwell upon it." He admonished lightly. "Rest and recover. Only when you are well, can you help your country."

The truth of in those words -the fact that he was unable to do anything- frustrated him. Serdic could only watch as the Emir left, leaving his bodyguard to guard his room once more. There was nothing more he could do then lay upon the bed again and hope that his strength would return faster.

 **Chapter 4: Recovery... is slow but steady**

 **-End-**

* * *

 **Author's note:**

This is a chapter that is light on plot, and heavy on explanations. Sadly, there was no way to avoid this info dump. Serdic's group need more information as to what has occurred, though, Serdic himself is still being close-mouthed about certain things. Maybe later, the prince will be more willing to share his thoughts.

This is the first chapter that I have to write Prince Serdic as a character that is not the about-to-die prince. I'm pretty much having to make his character, due to the fact that those who have played the game would realise that they know extremely little about him. In fact, the reason this chapter took so long was due to Serdic's POV stumping me for quite a while, causing me to rewrite it multiple times before I felt satisfied. This is a chapter I feel less confident with, I might come back and work on it again.

The Ansom POV was a result of me realising how political Rondo of Swords is, and how I could use it. The game is about politics between countries, and the different routes in the game showed the different ways in which the protagonist made his allies. There is more high fantasy elements than I expected when I first started writing this, but it's a fun challenge.

Oh, and the double. The double's going to go on his own little adventure to Almeria. I suppose this is where I start having the freedom to diverge somewhat from the in-game chronology. Have fun guessing what that is to come~


	5. Of social statuses

_**Refraction**_ **, a Rondo of Swords fanfiction**

 **Chapter 5: Of social statuses…**

The sun begun set, the orange ball of light descending upon the yellow carpet. The light of the day was receding, and with it, the heat that had plagued them ever since they had entered the Ismael Desert. Selmer relished the coming of the night, finally, he could recover his mana. He had been maintaining a spell to cool the air as the magician, the prince and the horse had trekked through the desert. Prince Serdic had initially protested against the cooling spell, insisting that he did not require such treatment. The prince had only relented when Selmer had said that they would not be able to cross the desert during the day without it. This reason was only partly true, but Selmer had wanted to give the prince what little comfort and aid he could provide.

Prince Serdic's eyes were fixed upon the setting sun, watching the slow transition from day to night. The scene that repeated every day captivated the prince, and for those few minutes, he was always silent. Selmer could understand why. His own eyes drank in the scenery, of the usual yellow sand that was hued orange, of the gradual blue to black gradient of the sky. Shining stars dotted the blue-black sky, and there was naught a cloud in the sky to block their radiance. Selmer had seen this spectacle many a time, yet it never failed to take his breath away.

The moon was clear in the night sky when Prince Serdic finally decided to resume their conversation. "So, Selmer, you said Ice was your devotion? I find it strange that you call your field of study a devotion."

It had become normal to chat with the prince as they journeyed through the sands. The prince was the inquisitive sort, querying about all topics concerning Almeria and magic. It seemed to him that news of the on-goings in Almeria were rare in Bretwalde, so he entertained the prince with stories about failed experiments and magician squabbles. On the occasions that he delved into the theories of magic, he found himself surprised about the depth of knowledge the prince knew. He had not expected that someone trained in the ways of the Holy Knight would understand concepts about mana conversion and elemental instability, but the prince could discuss it for hours. It was to the point that Selmer had once asked if Prince Serdic had learnt magic. The prince reply was to laugh. He said that all he knew was theory, that no matter what he did, he could conjure none of the stable elements. Selmer noted that this did not include Light magic, the magic most closely related to holy lineage of the Bretwaldean royal family. He decided that if the prince had chosen not to say it, he would let the prince have his secrets.

The prince had asked yet another strange question, but as usual, he answered. "Devotion... that word is a relic of the old times, when people regarded magic as power granted from the gods. Hundreds of years ago, there was no concept of the study of magic, and people believed that faith in each of the elemental gods was what that granted people the ability to use each type of magic. Now, only two gods are really worshipped, Valen, the god of light and Amaruel, the god of darkness. But before, there were Islay, the god of ice, Felgius, the god of fire and Kiril, god of lightning. Magicians would call their skills in each element to be their devotions to each of those gods. However, times changed. Magicians became curious as to the source of their abilities and begun to study their abilities, and soon belief in the gods waned. Almeria was one of the first places to properly study magic, and now, no one here believes in the old gods."

"Quite different from Verona." Prince Serdic commented. "Belief in Valen is still very strong."

"You might not want to bring that up in Almeria, Prince Serdic. Almeria and Verona have had multiple conflicts in ideologies..." Selmer advised. The differing belief systems was one of the main reasons why the two countries never became allies.

"I'll keep that in mind." Prince Serdic said with a nod. "I am curious though, does Almeria not study light and dark magic?"

"We do... but practitioners of such magics are rare in Almeria. Light and dark magic are not considered stable elements because we have yet to discover any fixed rules upon how they work. Each individual spell has their own independent principles, and different spells can have principles that contradict each other. This makes the unstable elements difficult to study. In Almeria, a magician's worth is in the number of thesis they are able to produce, so light magicians tend not to be well respected. Light magicians would rather study in Verona compared to Almeria, as they are respected so long as they respect the faith." Selmer explained to the prince. He had left out the explanation for why dark magicians did not come Almeria, and the prince did not press. The prince would surely know about Verona's purges of dark magicians.

Prince Serdic was quiet for a few moments, then suddenly, a smirk appeared upon his face. "Fifth count, Selmer. This makes five meals that you owe me." The prince declared, out of the blue.

Selmer spluttered. He thought back at their conversation, before realising his mistake. "I'm sorry, Pri- No, I mean Altrius..."

Altrius was the pseudonym Prince Serdic had chosen before they had begun their journey. Back in the inn room, the prince had cautioned Selmer against calling him Prince Serdic, lest the name drift to the ears of Grand Meir soldiers. Selmer agreed with the need for an alias, but did not expect that the prince would settle with the name Altrius. It was the name of the Holy King that had established Bretwalde one hundred and fifty years ago. It seemed pretentious to use that name. However, the prince had appealed to the ridiculousness of it, stating that no one would believe that the prince of Bretwalde would call himself Altrius. The air of arrogance left him incredulous and Selmer found himself relenting to the prince's whims. He even ended up agreeing to the prince's bet, where he would owe Prince Serdic a meal each time he had forgotten the pseudonym.

Prince Serdic smirked at Selmer's plight. Usually, the prince would follow up with a small jab at his carelessness, but something in the distance of the desert had apparently caught the prince's attention. Selmer tried to follow the prince's line of sight, but to no avail. They had opted not to use a lantern, so the only light in the desert were the moon and the stars. Under the moonlight, the only really visible features were the rise and dips of the dunes. What was the prince looking at?

"Four desert savages. They are chasing someone." Prince Serdic answered as if hearing his question. He pointed into the distance. Squinting, Selmer was barely able to make out a larger blob chasing a smaller blob. They were moving towards their general direction.

"A hunt at night? It happens occasionally, but only if their target is worth the effort." Selmer mused aloud. He had long ago told the prince about the desert savages, nomads that attacked travellers for their belongings and their women. They had made numerous detours around the common hunting grounds to avoid them. The prince and the mage were only a pair of travellers. They would be horribly outnumbered if they met the hunting groups, which could be up to twenty men strong.

Selmer could see a frown appearing upon the prince's face. He seemed to be wrestling with a thought. Suddenly he acted, slapping a hand against his horse, commanding it to part from him. He turned to Selmer, and spoke as he drew his blade. "I apologise, Selmer. I know we agreed to avoid them, but I don't think I can leave them alone."

"It's alright. I don't condone their actions either." Selmer replied as he tightened his grip over Energeia. The cool feel of the staff helped him to remain calm. In truth, he would rather not engage the savages. The prince was simply too important to risk. However, the prince would not be dissuaded in any short amount of time, and there was no place to hide in the desert. This was an unavoidable battle.

At least, they had the advantage of surprise. The group was nearing them now, and he could now aim at the moving forms.

"Spirits!" He called for them. It was slow, but he felt the swirl of mana pull the sparse amount of ice element out of the desert air. Ice fragments crystallised from the atmosphere, then coalesced together, shaping themselves into an ice lance. The fragile weapon lunged over the savages' target, piercing through the first savage, and shattering upon the second. Neither were fatal wounds, but the ice that clung to their bodies inhibited their movement.

Angered yells shook the air as the savages were alerted to their presence. Their speed increased and soon, the indistinct blobs separated. There were four men, just as the prince had said, and each towered over the young magician. Their singlets exposed their bulging muscles, which allowed them to wield their weapons. Axes, Selmer clarified to himself when the moonlight reflected off one of the savage's blades. The savages were closing in, but the ice element was slow to respond. Thankfully, the prince of Bretwalde was already moving to intercept.

As the sovereign of a knightly kingdom, Prince Serdic's swordsmanship did not disappoint. Selmer watched in admiration as the holy blade easily parried the first savage's wild swings, before slicing towards the man's side. The savage's frostbitten body was unable to respond in time, and the sword sliced cleanly into his abdomen. The prince was not done, dodging around the falling body to go for the other iced savage, intent on capitalising upon their initial advantage. That other fared similarly against the weaving blade and the numbers were trimmed to two versus two.

The remaining two savages had not been idle, trying to rush forward as Prince Serdic was engaged in the melee. However, the prince had skilfully blocked the path of one of them, leaving only one to slip past his guard. The single savage foolishly charged straight at him, making it easier to aim his now ready spell. Selmer was a moment from releasing the spell when he noticed a shadow lunging at the savage. Metallic claws protruded from the savage's neck, the fatal blow leaving another body upon the sands. The savage's mark had struck back, apparently tired of simply running away.

With three against one, the remaining savage re-evaluated his chances. He forced Prince Serdic back with a sudden tackle and chose to flee. However, he did not escape the range of the Ice Shard spell. A flurry of snow drifted down, surrounding the savage. The ice crystals shredded into his skin without mercy. All the savage could do was let out a miserable cry before he collapsed.

Selmer let out a breath he had been holding. He never liked killing, he never liked battle, but he knew the necessity of it. If he wanted to continue to aid the prince, then this would only be the first of many battles to come. He would have to steel himself for the future. At least, this time, he could be comforted by the fact that they had saved someone from being caught by the savages. Selling people as slaves was not the worst they were known to do. He turned to address the once-target of the savages and found himself staring.

It was hard not to. Even in the moonlight, he could make out the inhuman features. The woman's ears were elongated and pointed, and a tufted tail peeked out from the folds of her cloak. Even her amber eyes were faintly glowing. She was one of the rare beastpeople. No wonder the desert savages had continued their pursuit even at night.

He did not realise that the beastwoman had noticed his staring.

* * *

Alhambra observed the two boys in front of her. She had never expected that her saviours would be younger than her. They were a strange pair, one a mage not past his mid-teens, another a swordsman verging upon adulthood. Not a pair one would expect to see travelling alone in the desert.

The closer of the two, the mage, was staring at her. She knew the reason why. Alhambra became conscious of her ears and tail, features clearly visible even in the poor light. Her appearance had always bothered her. She did not look like an ordinary human, and this was not of her own will.

She came from a tribe whose name had been long lost. The tribe craved power, honing their bodies to be stronger and sharper. Yet, even when they gained renown as the strongest warriors upon the continent, it was not enough. They wanted to be even stronger. They chose to modify their human bodies, to breach the human limits, and did so by utilising animal bodies. They succeeded. However, the power had its price. The other tribes came to fear their new inhuman appearances and banded together to destroy them. Even with their newfound strength, the beast-like tribe could not win against such numbers and was eventually scattered. Few members of the tribe remained.

Even now, generations later, they- no, she was still hunted. Her ears, eyes and tail marked her as something inhuman. Beastwoman, she had been called. Some of her pursuers just wanted to kill the 'monster', but the worst ones were those that wanted to sell her. She would rather not think of what she would be forced to do if she was caught. It had been close.

"Are you alright?" The swordsman's voice broke the silence as he stepped closer. She noted that his sword was sheathed, and his palms were open and empty. His blue eyes were a mix of curiosity and worry. His heartbeat, a quiet thrum. His concern was genuine.

"You saved me." Alhambra said, feeling touched. Such concern was rare to her. "Who are you?"

The young man's eyes shifted. It had been clear before, but now, the blue seemed murky. Unclear. Then, he blinked and the murkiness was gone. "No one of importance. I'm only glad that we could help." The boy replied.

As if to change the topic, the boy whistled. A horse, of all things, came to the boy's side. The boy dug into the saddle bag upon the horse, tossing a restorative to his magician friend. He offered one to her as well. A quick sniff told her that it was a Pulpy Juice. There was no strange smell nor taste upon it, so she drank without reserve.

"Thanks… You didn't say anything about how I look." Alhambra commented. She had initially thought that the boys were simply too far away, and in the dark of the night, they had not noticed her appearance. But now, they were close enough. The magician was still eyeing her, but the swordsman had only given her a cursory glance.

"Should I have?" Confusion and naivety intermingled in the reply. The response was so… child-like, that Alhambra found herself responding, almost in apology. "No, I didn't mean that."

The young man seemed to pick up that something was wrong. His blue eyes wandered over her again, taking her bestial appearance in full. Yet, the blue orbs did not narrow in disgust or fear. "Well, I'll allow that you have pretty ears." He said after a moment of deliberation.

Of all things, Alhambra did not expect a compliment. Already, she felt the tips of her ears burn.

"Pretty?" She murmured, barely believing his words. She was a beastwoman. A human that looked too different from the norm, that many bastards would love to have as an exotic pet. She had heard a myriad of compliments from them, and in each, she could hear the sneer in their words, of how 'pretty' she was for a sub-human. They had never really meant it.

But for the first time in years, the compliment was sincere. The young man had not a hint of flattery nor sarcasm in his tone when he replied, "Very much so."

The seriousness in his tone made her bark in laughter. The young man drew back, his eyes arched in a "What did I do?" manner, while the magician put a hand on his forehead.

"That's the first time I've heard that one." She admitted when she finally regained control of herself. She felt a slight regret at her uncouth behaviour, towards this boy whose opinions had been earnest. He was the sort of person she would like to travel with, one who had no prejudices against her.

"You guys are heading to Almeria City?" She queried, hoping for an affirmative. It did come, in the form of a bob of the swordsman's head. It felt like the stars had aligned, and she made her decision.

"Same. You know, it's like fate, you rescuing me here. I'm coming with you- and I don't want to hear one word otherwise!"

* * *

Selmer's eyebrows had been climbing ever since the prince and the beastwoman begun talking, and finally reached his hairline when the beastwoman made her sudden declaration. She wanted to come with them?

The few seconds that he had remained startled cost him. Before he could muster up a polite refusal, the prince had agreed, stepping forth and offering her a hand. "Welcome abroad. You can call me Altrius. The mage is Selmer." Prince Serdic said with a welcoming smile, taking the decision out of Selmer's hands.

In his opinion, this was a poor decision. The beastwoman, who was introducing herself as Alhambra, would draw attention wherever she went. Her presence would be detrimental to the prince who was supposed to be travelling incognito. Furthermore, she was likely a nomad, who had no real loyalties to the prince. There would be a possibility of her betraying them in the future. He could think of another thirty arguments against this decision, yet he did not raise a single word of complaint. Prince Serdic was still a prince, his status was far higher than what Selmer could hope to reach. Selmer had no authority to ask the prince of anything.

He sighed, letting out the frustration he felt. There was little use dwelling on such things if he had no power to change them. He could not say that he was not interested in her.

"A beastwoman…" The words slipped out of his mouth unintentionally, but the beastwoman reacted as if she had been stung. Irritation flashed in her eyes as she shot back, "Want to make something of it, magician boy?"

At her sudden hostility, the mage realised his error. The name of her tribe had been lost in the ages, and beastpeople had been a derogatory term that had been introduced in its place. She did not like being called by that term.

"I apologise if I sounded confrontational. I'm genuinely interested in your condition." Selmer said with a bow. Then, he shook his head and groaned. "Urgh… that still sounds uncouth."

From the corner of his eye, he saw the prince being amused at his clumsy apology. However, it was apparently enough for the beastwo- Alhambra. She calmed and explained, "Oh, that's fine. I don't really want to show it off though. I'm trying to research this body of mine, to find a way to make me normal. That's why I'm going to Almeria."

"You want to change your current form?" Selmer wondered out loud. This was the sort of subject that Master Arios would love. It would also not hurt to have her in his debt, and would also keep his master away from more… dangerous subjects. Thus, he suggested, "My mentor in Almeria may be able to help in some way. He takes a special interest in extranormal matters. I can't guarantee anything though."

"I'd be happy to get any information." She exulted, and her expression of happiness made him feel slightly guilty for using her.

"I think you misunderstand… You're likely to see results. But I can't guarantee his behaviour." Selmer said as a precautionary. Before she could ask what he meant by that, Prince Serdic interjected.

"I suppose, you have no complaints against Alhambra joining us?" he asked Selmer.

"Since, you have already agreed to her companionship, I cannot disagree." Selmer replied. At the very least, this journey would be an interesting one, with an incognito prince, a mage and a beastwoman.

"Welcome, Alhambra." Selmer said as he offered his hand, accepting the woman into their party.

* * *

Two weeks had passed since Prince Serdic had awoken. He had not lain still, instead constantly requesting for information about the on-goings of the world, particularly of what has occurred in Bretwalde and Shalem. Both he and Emir Ansom had spent nights pouring over the Shalem spies' reports. The news had been grim. As the days went by, more and more states of Bretwalde surrendered to the Grand Meir Empire. With each surrender, the morale of the resistance fell, and that led to a destructive chain effect. It was only a few days ago, that the last remaining resisting state, Cale, had surrendered. Bretwalde had fallen completely under Grand Meir's control. The prince had not said anything when the news came in, but even Kay could see that his eyes were no longer as bright as they once were.

The only thing the red knight could do was to remain staunchly by the prince's side. Margus had said that the prince needed moral support more than ever now, so Kay did his best to accompany the prince where he went. For today however, it was the prince accompanying him to the stables.

Just that morning, a report had come to the Emir's attention that the bandits from the Gareh Mountains had been attacking travellers and the nearby villages. Prince Serdic had volunteered his service to help deal with the bandit problem, as a small payment for the Shalemians' hospitality. However, Emir Ansom had been insistent that the prince should continue to rest. Ansom had eventually won the ensuing argument, forcing Prince Serdic to consent to merely lending his knights. Prince Serdic had grumbled that he was well enough to spar as they headed to the stables.

There was no real need for the prince to follow him. The prince's social status meant that he should not deign himself to escorting his knights. However, there was nothing Kay could say when the prince said that he wanted to see Maximus. It was the same as before. Prince Serdic had never cared for the social barrier, always finding reasons to intrude into the knights' activities. He often chatted with the knights to learn about their lives and how they viewed the kingdom. He had known most of the knights on a personal level, and Kay was no exception. The prince had dragged him out to accompany him on horse-riding lessons numerous times.

When they reached the stables, Kay busied himself with preparing Gawain for the journey. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Prince Serdic attending to Maximus. The proud horse greeted his rider with a huff, as if annoyed that the prince had not been able to come see it earlier. Still, it let the prince approach and stroke its mane.

"I heard from Margus. Apparently, my double had been rather insistent on taking Spirit?" Prince Serdic queried when he saw Kay watching.

At Kay's nod, the prince shook his head. "So, he still hasn't conquered that fear…" The prince muttered to himself.

"Fear?" Kay asked. Wasn't the reason why the double had chosen Spirit to ensure Prince Serdic would have Maximus?

"He has not dared approach Maximus since Maximus kicked him. I have told him that it was due to the fact that he startled Maximus by approaching from behind, but still… I suppose that sort of fear cannot be conquered so easily." Prince Serdic explained with a huff and he ruffled his horse's mane.

The prince had a scowl of annoyance, yet his voice was tinged with fondness. Kay had heard the prince speak like this before, before the siege, during the times he brought the sacred sword of Bretwalde into the holy knights' training sessions. The once-a-year event was when the holy knights would be taught first-hand about the true power of Spanta. At the end of the hellish training session, the prince would always complain about how the entire platoon of holy knights did not match a single sacred weapon. Despite his harsh words, he did care, and he always arranged for the next day to be a rest day for the knights.

Yet, there was a difference. When the prince had spoken to his knights, his eyes did not glaze over, neither did the scowl fade in the silence. Was it because of the double's sacrifice? Or did the double have a special place in the prince's mind? Was it both? It was difficult to tell, due in part to the Prince Serdic's quiet depression ever since he had awoken. Whichever it was, the prince was definitely worried. For his double, for his kingdom and even for his knights. He would not have followed Kay all the way to the stables otherwise.

That was why Kay had to act to relieve the prince of his worries, to share what little of the burden the prince allowed him to take on. Standing upright and pounding a fist upon his chest, Kay declared, "Prince Serdic, Margus and I will definitely complete our mission of defeating those bandits!"

For his efforts, Prince Serdic displayed a wry smile. "I would very much like to accompany you, but Ansom's insistence means I have to stay here. So, I will await your triumphant return."

Kay bowed at the prince's words, glad that he could at least elicit a smile from the prince. It was time for him to leave. He mounted Gawain and tapped his heels against the horse's ribs. The horse trotted through the stable doors.

"Please, stay safe."

The three words came so softly that Kay was not even sure if he had actually heard them. They sounded fragile, completely unlike how the prince usually spoke. Kay was gripped by the urge to turn back, to see the prince again, but the stable doors stood between them. It would be simple for him to just turn back, swing the door open and talk to the prince. He did not.

Kay knew Prince Serdic, of how he put up a strong facade, of how he would not want to be confronted when he was at his weakest. The prince had chosen not to share his worries when they had been alone. Prince Serdic would not suddenly begin if he returned. No, returning would be a transgression against the prince.

Thus, Kay did not look back. He set his sights on the mission entrusted to him, so that he could carry this small part of Prince Serdic's burdens. For the rest… for now, there was little he could do.

 **Chapter 5: Of social statuses… and barriers**

 **-End-**

* * *

 **Author's note:**

Well, we finally have a temporary name for our double, here, Altrius. I debated a long time before choosing to put this name in, but it was a necessary evil. There is going to be more and more people knowing about him, so I'll need something to refer him by, other than Prince Serdic's double. Note that this is not to say that his name is Altrius. It's a pseudonym of convenience, and when I write in the perspective of the double, he'll likely not call himself that. Well, in these author's notes, I will be calling him Altrius from now on.

This chapter ended up being far more about Altrius side than I imagined. But is it really Altrius being Altrius or Altrius being Serdic? It's probably difficult for readers to figure out at this point, so hopefully future chapters would give you more insight into the characters of our two protagonists. At least, Serdic is being Serdic in his part. Poor Serdic isn't at his best right now, so Altrius might be giving a more accurate portrayal of the Prince of Bretwalde when he's normal.

One of my favourite parts of this chapter is doing the world building about magic and the gods. The game Rondo of Swords doesn't really give too much background about the magic systems, so I will have to fill these gaps with my own headcanons. There is likely going to be more about this in the future, so I hope you enjoy.


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